


Dancing on the Kitchen Tiles (Yes You Make My Life Worthwhile)

by BelieveMePlease



Category: Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Genre: First Dance, Growing Up Together, M/M, Teen Romance, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 15:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelieveMePlease/pseuds/BelieveMePlease
Summary: "You think we're normal, don't you?" And no, neither of them would have predicted the mental turmoil this question would cause in the minds of two unbelievably stressed teenage boys. Or how they may turn out all the better for it.





	Dancing on the Kitchen Tiles (Yes You Make My Life Worthwhile)

To both boys it was funny to think what would be thought of them if any of their rowdy teenage teammates ever saw them in their kind of element. The little one, always picked on for his restricted height, despite the fact his little legs could carry him quicker and further than almost any of the rest, and the stocky older lad who'd been disciplined more times than either of them could count for shoving any of those bullies into the dirt.

So yes, funny to think. More terrifying, but there was still amusement to the thought nonetheless.

Even more amusing perhaps would be for the both of them to look back and remember how much neither of them had wanted to move to their respective new homes. Not knowing each other back then and definitely having no clue about what the impact of their meeting would have on both their lives.

It wasn't like either of them dwelled on thoughts like this, of course, what self respecting athletic teenage boy would? Well, probably a lot in reality, but not in their game driven world. There was hardly time for anything else, even each other sometimes. Only sometimes though...they told themselves.

"You think we're normal, don't you?" George tentatively asked from his place at the end of his bed, French textbook and exercise book both open in front of him, but the furthest he'd got was a messy scrawl of 'Je m'appelle George et j'amie' before stopping mid-sentence in a daydream.

"Hmm?" Owen hummed, eyes only flittering away from George's TV for a moment, Playstation 2 controller still gripped in between his moving fingers and thumbs.

George sighed and pushed his books away so he could sit properly in Owen's line of vision who was propped comfortably against the pillows and headboard. Sensing George's slight agitation at his lack of attention, Owen paused the game and dropped the controller onto George's bedside table next to him, "Of course we're normal, Georgie, what you going on about now?"

It worried Owen when George simply looked down to where he was fidgeting with his fingers and shrugged, "No one said anything to you did they? Tell me who, George."

"No Faz," George huffed in frustration, "Not every thought I have comes from someone getting to me."

"I didn't say that!" Owen defended.

Again George sighed and slumped back, dangerously close to the end of the mattress. Owen went to shuffle forward so he could grab George and they could cuddle before he had to go home. Things didn't seem like they were going to be so easy, however, as George stretched his legs out to prevent him getting any closer, and Owen really didn't want to fight tonight. They'd argued enough recently, what with the season filling up both their schedules and tiring them out enough to leave them with very little time for each other outside of training and matches. Giving in, Owen just shunted back into his own position on George's bed and tipped his head back, beginning to feel the exhaustion from the late hour setting in.

"Of course we're normal, Georgie, like I said. And I didn't mean to make it sound like I only think you say stuff if someone's getting to you. I just worry, that's my knee jerk reaction when it comes to you."

That pulled a smile from George who was finally looking at him properly and Owen felt like cheering in triumph, but held back when George crawled up to him and straddled over his lap. As if they were being drawn towards their home, Owen's hands found the slender waist of the boy about him. Just like every other time, he marvelled at how big they looked against the body they were holding.

"Well you shouldn't," George nestled down into Owen's lap lightly and Owen gave his waist a short but tight squeeze in warning, "I'm a big, bad rugby player, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself."

Owen snorted, "Forgetting that you just tried to call yourself a badboy, which is awful enough as is, if there's one thing you're definitely not, Georgie, it's big."

Face screwing up with amused offense, George tried to playfully smack at his elder, but his hands were caught between two larger ones and he was yanked down so his lips could be forced against Owen's. He only fought back jovially for a moment before he couldn't help himself but to melt into it.

But alas, never a moments peace in the lives of these two as George's mother chose that exact moment to open the door without so much as a knock and announce that Owen's mother was on the phone as he was late home.

Owen simply cackled while George blushed profusely, shouting a horrified "Mum!" having thrown himself off Owen and was trying to straighten himself out against the ruffled bed sheets.

"I'll see myself out; French homework, Fordy," Owen chided, pointing to the discarded school books before finally standing with one last kiss to George's forehead.

"'S not like you ever do yours anyway," George retorted.

"That's because I have more important things to think about, not like the strange questions that seem to fill your lil' head," Owen was basically skipping out the door at this point as he spoke, "Night, baby!"

But Owen just couldn't seem to get what George had said out of his head. Knowing the younger fly half it was most likely just a fleeting thought that had no kind of substance behind it, but when it came to George, Owen's mind had a habit of fixating. Badly.

Were the both of them really normal? There were a lot of people in the world who definitely didn't believe they were. Even though the both of them had agreed right at the beginning of their youthful romance that they weren't going to let things like that get to them, it became increasingly hard for Owen to ignore. In the weeks following, Owen found himself struggling to forget how it felt slightly wrong to have to hold George's hand inside his pocket on their walk to and from school, or the twinge he felt in his chest when he had to hold back on his on-field celebrations with George after tries and matches. He found solace in how easy it felt to spend time with George in the evenings and how easily George slotted into his family, as well as he to George's. Especially, he was comforted by how right it felt to wake up with George in his bed on Saturday mornings and fall asleep in George's on Saturday nights.

But he still couldn't shake the feeling. He couldn't help feeling that hiding the way they were wasn't normal and he really wanted to give George normal. Maybe it was selfish, but he really wanted normal for himself.

"I think we should tell people about us."

It hadn't exactly gone the way Owen had hoped. Well, no, considering him and George ended up in the middle of a full blown, fuming row, it really hadn't gone the way Owen had hoped. His mother had even come into his room twice when their raised voices began to border shouting to check that they were okay.

Honestly, he didn't blame George for not wanting to, he wasn't even sure why he let himself get angry when George had said no. He's pretty sure that had George been the one to ask him the same question he would have had the exact same reaction, so it was ridiculous really. It was obvious why this was happening though; both had the climbing pressure of upcoming exams with GCSEs and AS Levels. Not to mention they were both still exhausted with the hangover from the season and the amount of gym training they were still having to do. Owen just figured that not having the stress of constantly having to keep hidden would relieve some of the strain on the relationship.

"That's all it is, Georgie, I just want to make things easier for us!"

George didn't even try to resist the urge to snort at that, "It's not going to make anything easier, Owen! Think of all the torment we'll get. You've heard those guys in the locker room, imagine being on the receiving end of all that."

"It'll be different when it's actually, though," Owen wasn't even sure why he was trying so hard, he wasn't sure that he actually wanted to be open to the world about their relationship himself, "They probably don't even know that they're being offensive. If we explained they'd be cool with it, so many people are now."

"Easy for you to say," George knew Owen didn't miss his murmur and he didn't miss the elder's eye roll either, "Oh don't give me that, Owen, you know full well it's you that fits in with that lot and not me. It's alright for you being muscular and tall and good looking, they'd probably forget you were gay the minute after you told them. Yet it would be the one thing I'd never live down."

"George, I don't care about them, okay? Or what they say about you or me. God, I don't care about any of this stuff, I just care about you. I only want to make things better for us, just tell me how I can do that and I will, alright? I thought coming out might help, but if it won't then that's fine," Owen took a breath, this conversation was too deep and he was too done with fighting, "Whatever you wanna do, Georgie, I'm there, okay? And if telling people about us isn't what you want then I'm good with that."

There were tears forming in the corners of George's eyes when he finished and, yeah, Owen knew the feeling. They were so unbelievably emotionally drained it felt like physical exhaustion kicking in.

"'M sorry, Faz," George mumbled when he was hauled against Owen's chest and held there tight, "I don't wanna be the reason you're stressed out, I just want us to be good too."

Owen shushed him and kissed the crown of his head lightly, "You're not, baby, it's the rest of the world that stresses me out. We're good, we're all good."

Internally, Owen was thanking God it was a Friday night; happy he could strip George of the sports kit he was still wearing, slip one of his own t-shirts over his boy's head and revel at how it totally swamped him. After such  a gruelling day and a fight with George to top it all off, Owen was especially glad to finally slip into the soft cotton of his own pyjamas. Above all though, he was just  happy to tuck George's body against his own under the crisp warmth of his bed sheets and snuggle with his lad all night. Moments like that were always what got them through.

The next morning things were fine again. As usual, George had set an alarm on his phone annoyingly early for a Saturday and Owen did the same weekly routine of telling George he'd kick him out of his bed the next time he did it. Obviously he never actually had or would; George's comforting warmth was far too nice for that.

The perk of having been woken up far earlier than actually necessary was being able to kiss slowly and sleepily until Owen felt conscious enough to roll over to in between George's legs and pin him to the mattress. He probably would have pushed for a little more than just morning kisses, but he'd heard his mum get up and her milling around downstairs; that and George was getting a little anxious to get home so his parents couldn't chide him for spending too much time with Owen and not enough time revising.

"No wonder I keep losing clothes," Owen remarked, smirking while he watched George dress from his place, lounging still, against the headboard.

"Hmm?" George hummed, pulling on last night's joggers.

"That's my hoodie," Owen nodded his head to the sports jumper George was wearing. It came down far enough to cover the short boy's bum and only a small peak of his little fingers could be seen poking out from the bunched up sleeves, "It's massive on you."

George only smirked back, "I can always take it off if you'd prefer," he played with the hem of the hoodie while moving to stand in between Owen's legs who had moved to sit on the edge of the mattress.

Instead of responding in the same teasing manner he knew George wanted to hear, Owen simply smacked the boy's arse, reasonably lightly, but not without a little bite and said, "Go home, you. You've got revision to do."

Pouting, George tried to step away, but was held in place by a firm grip on his hips. Owen gave them a quick squeeze and murmured, "later," before freeing him. Feeling strangely overtaken with a sense of romance, Owen saw George to the door and kissed him on the doorstep. Even if George did blush and look at him as if he'd gone slightly mad.

This feeling was slightly shattered, however, when Owen wondered into the kitchen in search of breakfast and found his mother milling over a cup of coffee.

"Trouble in paradise?" she asked.

Owen paused where he was making his own coffee, before carrying on calmly, "No, we're good," he replied, finishing up and sitting at the table across from her and began blowing gently into his mug to try and cool the scolding liquid.

"Didn't sound so good last night," and she was giving Owen those eyes that reminded him that she could always see right through him no matter what he said, "You two seem to have been fighting like that a lot recently."

"Not a lot," Owen mumbled from behind the rim of his mug, but there was that eyebrow raise which made him sigh and give in, "Just a little more than usual."

"You're both so young, Owen," he fought back an eye roll at that, but of course his mum could sense it anyway, "I don't mean that in a patronising way, I understand how serious you are about George and how much you care about him and you know we all love him too, he's good for you. It's just that, at your age, a relationship should be fun and enjoyable no matter how strong your feelings are. I'd hate to see you both go through more stress than you already are."

"You and Sally have been gossiping," Owen smiled, "I know that's the only reason you still call each other to get us home when both of us have our own phones."

"Well, you ought to be glad your parents and your in-laws are good friends when so often people are at loggerheads over their kids," she smiled back, "My point still stands though, love."

Owen sighed, "I dunno, I think it's just running over from last season. We're either really great or really not great during season time, y'know. This time was just a bit more of the not so great, I guess."

"What do you think has made it carry on afterwards?"

"Probably just exam pressure and all stuff like that, but we'll get through it fine. We always do," he looked wistful for a moment, "I love him, mum."

"I know you do."

"I just was things to be good for him. I want us to be normal."

"Oh Owen," she sighed and shook her head and for a moment the irrational child in Owen was terrified he'd done something to disappoint her until she gave him her sad smile, "No one should be normal; you can't let things like that worry you. Normal is just a term someone made up for people who are afraid to be themselves."

"So being normal is a bad thing?" Owen asked confused. It was still too early for these kinds of deep conversations, especially after everything that had happened with George the night before. He still wasn't emotionally recovered enough.

She looked thoughtful for a time before smiling slightly, "Let's just say it's not an important thing. As long as you're happy, what does it matter if someone somewhere thinks you're _abnormal_?"

That sort of lifted Owen's spirits for the rest of the day. He felt far less on edge about things, in fact he was only completely looking forward to seeing George later that evening rather than being worried that they would argue yet again. It hadn't felt like that for weeks.

Even in the few short hours following, Owen's actions were changing for the better. He got all his work done and some extra revision as well before going for his usual jog which he cut slightly short, but came home smiling. Over dinner, his dad even asked his if he was feeling okay. Owen and his mum just shared a knowing look.

After dinner, Owen checked his phone and saw he had a text from George saying he could go over whenever he wanted. So he shoved a few overnight things into a kit bag, threw a goodbye to his parents and skipped out into the evening which was only just beginning to darken. George only lived a few moments away, but it was enough time for the smile to build on his face thinking about his earlier conversation with his mother and how much better he felt for it.

When George opened the door to his boyfriend, he only had to take one look at Owen's beaming face before he was asking, "What's wrong with you?"

He didn't get a reply though, Owen simply grabbed him in a quick hug and kissed the side of his head before strolling past into the hallway. George was left standing a little stunned in the doorway of his own home.

"Hi Owen!" George's mum called from the living room. Smiling, Owen poked his head round the door and waved to George's parents.

"Hello," he chimed happily just as George came in as well.

"He's too happy," George pouted to his parents, "it's weird, I don't like it."

"Mike just rolled his eyes at his son, "Not everyone is as solemn as you are all the time, Georgie."

George clearly decided to ignore that comment while Owen snorted and laughed, hand rubbing at the small of George's back in a silent apology for laughing at the insult. "Tea?" he asked to change the topic as well as in a bid to get George alone before they got sucked in to a night with the family as had happened too many times before.

Nodding, George took his hand and led him to the kitchen. There he stood, barefoot on the cold tiles, hands on his hips, staring while Owen nonchalantly filled the kettle and flicked it on. Without really thinking about it, he clicked on the radio before grabbing two mugs and teabags. They were so comfortable in each other's homes by this point and this was so routine and Owen was already forgetting the rough patches he and George had been going through recently. Things were beginning to feel right again.

Owen smiled when he saw George's weary look; he went to the boy and nudged his hands away from his hips by replacing them with his own, "Don't frown, Georgie, you'll get wrinkles."

"What's up with you all of a sudden?" George huffed, Owen kissed his forehead.

"Our mothers have been gossiping about us."

"You only just figured that one out?" George snorted then smiled, "Our dads do too, y'know?"

"Do what?" Mike asked, strolling into the kitchen in search of the tea Owen had mentioned. George rolled his eyes, partly because he was stealing the mugs meant for him and Owen, but mostly because his parents seemed to have a shared ability to walk in on all the completely wrong moments.

"You and Andy gossip about Owen and me," Mike gave his son a look, "What? You do! You're even worse than mum and Colleen."

"Oh don't be so dramatic, George," Mike grumbled and Owen finally had the realisation of where George got it from, "We just talk about your game...mostly."

George's smiled mockingly, "Sure you do. Can you go now, please?"

Mike held up the now finished mugs of tea in both hands as if he was surrendering before walking to the door, "Same as always, Owen; no shenanigans!"

"Yes sir!" Owen saluted while George whined out "Dad!"

"They're ridiculous," George complained when he heard the door to the living room shut, but Owen was paying no mind and already ignoring Mike's instruction by pressing kisses down on George's shoulder. George could literally feel the smile against him and huffed out in frustration, returning to his earlier point, "Seriously, what has gotten into you?"

Owen sighed and pulled up to look at George, "Nothing Georgie, I just feel better, like, not so on edge, yeah?"

"Yeah," George breathed and leaned his head forward to rest over Owen's chest, "Sorry for being a bit crazy recently, things have just been a bit much."

"Nah, I get it, baby, you don't have to be sorry," Owen rested his chin snugly on the crown of George's head, "I'm sorry too though, been a bit crazy myself."

There was a song starting up, in the background noise the radio was producing, which Owen vaguely recognised and he smiled when he felt the depth of George's light laugh against him. He didn't even realise that they'd started swaying. It was awful really, the combined lack of rhythm of two boys built clearly for the pitch and not the dance floor, the sound of their feet sticking to the cold tiles and they moved senselessly, the chill that ran through George's unheated house in the early spring.

"I love you, George."

"I love you too."

But this, finally, was the normality they'd been searching for. No matter how abnormal two teenage boys dancing in the kitchen may seem. To them this was _home._

_So hold me close and say three words like you used to do_

_Dancing on the kitchen tiles_

_Yes you make my life worthwhile_

_So I told you with a smile_

_It's all about you..._   

**Author's Note:**

> This is too mushy for my liking really, and nothing like how I first intended or expected, but I tried. Considering this didn't really have any kind of plot when I first came up with the idea, I think it turned out okay. I just love the idea of these two (being in love) as teenagers. Sorry for the ridiculously cliched lyrics (All About You - McFly) this was based on, I'm not used to doing it like this, but y'know. Thanks to all who stuck around long enough to get this far!


End file.
